Once upon a time at the top of a high, high mountain, there lived a wise old retired English teacher who had an incredibly pragmatic approach not only to life but to composition writing. Students would come from far and wide to learn the secrets of his craft. Most listened, scratched their heads and muttered, “Nonsense!” but as Teacher Mary made the long trek up the mountain, she sensed that her journey had not been in vain.
Reaching the top, she greeted him as he gestured for her to sit.
“Have you the answer, old sage?” she said, after catching her breath. “Have you got the key to help my students write competent, articulate, well-organized, exam-passing compositions?”
“I might,” he said humbly. “Only you can decide.”
“Tell me, old sage. I'm all ears.”
“It's simple, my child. We all know that a composition needs an Introduction, a Main Body and a Conclusion, but what confuses everyone is what to do when they come to writing each of these parts.”
“Yes ...?” said Teacher Mary expectantly, sensing she was about to hear The Truth.
“Well, it's simple,” he said, as he wrote in her notebook.
Tell them what you're going to tell them.
Tell them what you told them.
Teacher Mary read the shaky scrawl and gazed up at him in awe. “It is that simple, isn't it?” she said. “No more long, wandering introductions which don't prepare the readers for what's ahead. No more messy conclusions that introduce all kinds of new ideas that the readers aren't prepared for in the last paragraph.”
“You are a genius,” she said, radiant with gratitude. “I must go and, well, ... tell them!”
Но потом поняла, куда смотрел коммандер: на человеческую фигуру шестью этажами ниже, которая то и дело возникала в разрывах пара. Вот она показалась опять, с нелепо скрюченными конечностями. В девяноста футах внизу, распростертый на острых лопастях главного генератора, лежал Фил Чатрукьян.